I am screaming and crying, as I break into a sudden sprint, because it is the only thing I can think to do. I hear Chance and Ezra calling after me. I ignore them as I continue racing towards my apartment. All I can thing of is Tigger and my collection. And Tigger again. Heart racing, I reach my apartment at last. I burst through the main office and continue hobbling up the stairs as fast as my legs will carry me. I jam my key through the door, and as I fumble with the stubborn lock I remember something. The reason my apartment is on fire. Because I was in such a haste to go out with Ezra and Chance I forgot completely about blowing out my candles. "Such stupidity," I mutter underneath my breath. The door finally thrusts open and I am confronted with the sight my room in flames. Strangers are climbing through the window to try to stop the raging fire. I stand screaming at the top of my lungs but it seams as if nobody can hear me. Then I start racing into the flames, I beg for Tigger and cry and cry until a kind young worker pulls me by the arm and tells me everything is going to be okay. I am rambling a big nonsensical jumble of words, but he successfully interrupts me. He tells me that he will make sure he finds Tigger and that my work is all going to be saved. I know that he is paid to say things like that, but it somehow makes me feel a little better. I look at him for a brief moment before pulling him into a tight hug. All I need is a little reassurance, and he seems to be the only one who understands what I am going through right now, and that genuinely cares.
After taking a couple deep breathes I begin to help the workers search for Tigger. I peek in all of his favorite spots, but as the hours pass I begin to feel extremely nervous, and I start to lose hope. I begin to wail like a child, and then I think hope - that is exactly what I need to have. That is exactly who I need to have. I call my sister, because she knows how much Tigger really means to me. She arrives in no time, and she stands in the doorway gawking for a minute before catching her breath and leaping into my arms for a big hug. I kiss her hair and she tells me, "We will find him. As surely as my name is Hope."
As the night drags on, we are becoming more and more tired, and more and more discouraged. I have cried myself out, to the point where I feel nothing more than complete emptiness. Although I have no more tears to shed, I still have the will to keep searching. An hour later my sister tells me I should take a break for a while and let the workers continue, and maybe I can help again in the morning. I just about throw a fit, and Hope holds her tongue for the rest of the night. At around 3:00 am just about everyone has collapsed into a deep sleep, except for me. I am immune to staying up late, and I am determined to hold Tigger’s little body before morning. My eyes are just starting to droop when I see a little orange tail peek out from underneath some burned furniture in my lounge room. I am almost certain that I am hallucinating, but I trudge over to what used to be a night stand. I rummage around the ashes, and I see some movement. But the moving object is black. Tigger’s bright orange fur does not compare to this little black blob at all. Never the less, I pick up the shaking object, and I see two green eyes peering up at me from underneath pitch black fur. I would recognize those eyes any day. Tigger. At last. I clutch him close to me, and I can feel him trembling as little pieces of ash fall off of him. I think of how long he must have been under the rubble to turn this shade of black. I think of what a brave boy he is, and how I feel so much safer with him here. I kiss him another billion times before making my way over to the sink to clean him off a bit. I know how much he hates water, but tonight he seems to be perfectly content with the rushing liquid running down his body. I let myself smile for the first time tonight. I crash on the sofa about half an hour later, with Tigger in my arms, right where he should be.
I wake up the next morning and realize something: I have yet to discover what happened to my collection, and more importantly, to my sketch book. After I have gone through all the memories of last night, I prepare myself for entering the kitchen. I bring Tigger with me, because I need to be sure at all times that he is still there, and that finding him wasn’t just a hallucination. I enter the kitchen to find workers rummaging around the mess of what I used to call a counter top. They all look at me with surprised expressions on their faces, like it’s some kind of strange occurrence for me to be in my own kitchen. I give them an encouraging half smile to cover up my uncertain thoughts. Then I see the same kind young man from last night slowly coming towards me, and I suddenly feel embarrassed because of all of the nonsense I dumped on him last night. He seems to sense my worries and says, "I know the kind of place you were in last night, thank you for handling everything so well." I am completely in shock as I stutter, "Well?" He laughs and rests his hand on the back of his head in a childlike manner. Then he surprises me yet again with an out of the blue question, "Are you a fashion designer?" I reply, "Yes! I guess the manikins, fabric, and stitch kit that you were digging through last night may have been a little clue." He smiles and says, "It was actually this." He hands me my beautiful as ever sketch book.
Gasping, I grab it and do a little happy dance, completely forgetting that he is still standing there, and that I probably look quite ridiculous. Plus the fact that I have just gotten out of bed and my pajamas consist of a silk princess seamed tank top with velvet blue yoga pants. The combination of the silver in the top with the blue in the bottoms is not complimenting my skin tone, plus I should have added in my blue and silver bow last night to bring the look together. But I was too preoccupied to think about fashion statements. I know, shocker.
After I have finally ceased happy dancing I invite everyone in for some breakfast. I only have toaster waffles and pop tarts, but the men don’t seem to mind. I tell them that it’s the "fashion designer diet" quick, easy, not too messy, cheap, and it pulls you through the long working hours. Everyone erupts with laughter, and I feel special to have people here with me who will actually laugh at my jokes. I sigh as I check my phone to see if there are any concerned messages from Chance, Ezra, or Hope. Sure enough, I have three new messages.
Hope: be there in five! sorry I had to leave last night :(
Chance: i will be there soon to check on you! ill bring breakfast :)
Ezra: me and chance are on our way to check on you!
I giggle at how dedicated they are. Support is really what I need right now, and I couldn’t thank them more for it. And the breakfast is a nice bonus. I hear the familiar knock at the door, Ezra has a unique way of knocking, sort of like a woodpecker on a sunny day. I run over to the door and swing it open to find all three of them looking back at me with eyebrows drawn and concerned expressions on their beautiful faces. I tell them that everything is going to be alright, and that I am feeling fine in an attempt to erase the worried looks on their faces. My attempt has clearly failed as Chance says, "No it’s not. You have just been through a fire. Your bravery does not account for your feelings."
I shoot him a look, and motion for them to come in. Ezra is holding a box labeled "Tiramisu and Chocolate Donuts", funny what they consider "breakfast food." I accept the box and place it in the middle of the kitchen table. I see some of the workers eyeing the box as I introduce them to Hope, Chance, and Ezra. Then before I know it, Hope and Ezra are engaged in deep conversations with the men, while Chance begins to look over the apartment. I tell him it is not necessary for him to survey the damage, that the men have generously offered me their help, and that they already have a plan for how they are going to fix the damage. But he seems to be doing a very good job of ignoring me, so I take a deep breath and join him. We circle the whole apartment at least thirty times before I stop him and ask if he would like to join the others now. We head back to the kitchen only to realize all the delicious treats are completely gone, down to the last crumb. When Chance realizes there is no more food to be eaten he pulls me aside and says, "You may have recovered your sketch book, but you do know that all of your collection is gone."
